Already Let Down
by uptomyneckinfandoms
Summary: After his assumed death in the End of Time (Season 4 Finale of Doctor Who) The Master was taken in for mental care at St. Bartholomeus hospital. There, he is confronted by Moriarty, who has an interesting proposition for him...
1. Chapter 1

This wholock fanfic takes place after The End of Time in Doctor Who and Season Three of BBC Sherlock. The Master survived but lost his power's, and has been taken into psychiatric care at 's hospital (you'll find out why when you read it). The Master is going by the false name Sebastain Moran, who was Moriarty's righthand man in the Original Sherlock Holmes books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter 1:

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The pounding continued. The Master had hoped,that after all that had happened, the drums would stop. But there they were, a harder burden to carry now that he knew why they were there. 'Even after I killed Rassilon,' the Master thought, 'The Time Vortex still won't leave me alone.' The Doctor would probably have said something about how killing never solves problems, and that he shouldn't have expected Rassilon's death to change anything. He hated the Doctor sometimes- most of the time actually. 'I don't have to worry about the Doctor anymore,' he thought smiling, 'The Doctor thinks I'm dead- again.' He suddenly felt a sort of sadness. It was hard to hear his own emotions over all the noise in his mind, but was it possible that he, missed, the Doctor? No...but maybe-

"Sebastian, are you even listening to me?!" The Master sighed and snapped back into reality. He may not have to worry about The Doctor anymore, but there were still other Doctor's who had been getting on his nerves lately.

"No, I wasn't listening," the Master said, "I was too busy thinking about how superior I am to all of you humans." The man, Dr. Watson, his name tag read, looked frustrated.

"You do realize that you're a human also, don't you?" He asked. "You're human just like the rest of us are." The master shook his head.

"No. I'm really not." He didn't know what he was, timelord hardly qualified anymore, but he definitely wasn't human. Dr. Watson put down his clipboard.

"Sebastian…" He started.

"Who?"

"You! You're Sebastian," Dr. Watson exclaimed, clearly annoyed.

"Oh yah! Thats my name…" The Master said remembering his alabi. "Sebastian Moran," he drawled, "That's my character, my player, my role." Dr. Watson, as all the other Doctor's, psychologists, and therapists 's hospital had sent had, looked thoroughly confused and frankly tired of his shenanigans.

"Listen," he said, "I know you're an ex-soldier and you have problems, but everyone else in this hospital agreed that if you won't cooperate then we'll stop trying to help you. And then you'll never leave the mental ward." Disgust filled the master's face. It was bad enough he had to pose as a human soldier (as if he would ever fight in those petty wars the people of earth so often had) but now he was at their mercy! The very people he had been so much more powerful than only a few weeks ago. And they had the nerve to call him insane as well?! The master glared. "There's no need for you to get angry." said. "You're the one who was being stubborn and unyielding." The Master continued glaring. "I volunteered to help you because you used to be a soldier. I was a soldier to and so I thought you might talk to me. Was I right, or are you gonna be spending the rest of your life in a padded cell?" He was exaggerating, the Master knew humans weren't allowed to imprison people who merely annoyed them, but he knew that there were other things they could do to him.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I just want you to answer a few of my questions."

"Fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

"Okay, I'm not gonna ask you why you did the things that brought you here," Dr. Watson started.

"That's great. Don't ask me." The Master said.

Dr. Watson grunted,"First off, where is your family?" Ooh. Dangerous question, but the answer was pretty simple.

"Dead. And they hated me anyways," The Master replied. A small look of sympathy flashed across Dr. Watson's face.

"Were you ever married?" He asked.

"Yes…" The Master said cringing slightly.

"I take it that didn't go well?"

"Yeah, well it did, sort of, for a year- then she kind of, shot me." The Master said.

"She shot you?!"

"Yup. In the chest. With a gun. On purpose."

"Why?"

"I wish I knew."

"And you survived?" The Master smiled, that was a bit complicated.

"I had a good Doctor," He said.

"So was your wife arrested?"

"Yes. I only visited her once. She wasn't happy to see me. The jail she was in burned down six months ago. She's dead now." The Master said matter of factly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." said. The Master could almost see his little human brain thinking he was connecting the dots. His mind was probably thinking, 'Dead wife= sad husband=husband turns psycho.' Man these humans really didn't have any new ideas did they? Just the same story over and over, unchanging. No, Louise's betrayal, and her death, was only a minor detail in the Master's story, he really didn't care about it all that much.

"Do you know why she shot you? Did you do anything that would make her want to?" Oh boy. The Master had forgotten that humans did thing like that.

"No. I don't know why she tried to kill me. I was nicer to her than I've ever been to anyone. I gave her everything she wanted." The Master said. And it was true. Not that he cared… but he really did give her a lot, she was so unappreciative. He should expected as much from a human. "Can we talk about something else please?" The Master said, he wanted to avoid topics that would reveal him as the insane murderer he was.

"Okay but I'm gonna bring it up again, we can't just ignore these things."

"I'm not ignoring it, the topic just bores me." Something changed in Dr. Watson's eyes, he looked as if he were remembering something, not something urgent, just something he was reminded of. "Maybe you should go rest." The Master said. snapped out of it, "No. No. My break is in an hour. Let's finish this up." The Master groaned again. 'Why can't I Just leave?' he wondered. He looked down at his hands. 'Oh yah, that's why.' he thought, seeing the gleaming handcuffs around his wrist.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

After a long boring talk about the Master's ex-wife, Dr. Watson moved on to an even worse friends.

"I don't have any." The Master had told him bluntly. Obviously that hasn't been the end of it.

"I've heard that before Sebastian, and with all due respect I think that you're wrong." Dr. Watson said.

"What do you mean I'm wrong?!"

"I think you misinterpret what I mean when I say friend."

"Well what do you mean by it?" The Master retorted sounding quite annoyed.

"You're thinking of friendship of something superficial like hanging out with them on the weekends and going shopping with them. That's not what I'm asking. I'm asking if there's someone who cares about you, or that you care about, who has made a considerable impact on your life- that you are somewhat friendly with."

Dr. Watson explained elaborately.

"Oh. " The master said,"Somewhat friendly- does it count if he's nice to me half the time and I'm an asshole ninety percent of the time?" The Master asked.

"Yes. That counts."

"Alright then yes, I have one friend, sort of friend. Old friend I don't talk to unless I have to and probably hates me now also."

"Why are you so convinced that everyone hates you?" asked.

"You've met me," The Master said,"I'm sure you can figure out the answer to that one on your own."

The Master suddenly got lost in his own thoughts again. Through the muddle of drumbeats and insanity he thought about the Doctor. Did the Doctor hate him? He certainly had reason to. It wasn't like the Master had expressed anything but hatred for him. Well, except the last time he spoke to him. "Get out of the way." That's what they had both said to eachother, they both saved eachothers life. The Master had told himself it was to get back at Rassillon, but maybe that human was right, maybe the doctor was his friend. Even if he was- the master was one low quality friend that was for sure, and the friendship was not traditional. It wasn't a rivalry exactly, it was more the result of one person pushing the other away. It was the Master who did most of the pushing, obviously.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

John Watson had been having a good day when he volunteered to act as a physiatrist for the new patient. Despite the fact that the last three people who volunteered had left work early with black eyes, John still felt confident he could help- asking for the client to be hand cuffed was a... Precautionary measure. Not that John couldn't take him, but violence was sure to spoil his mood- and then he wouldn't propose to Mary that night because it would lack the romantics. He was determined to get through this still having a good day, and ignoring the fact that his client reminded him of Sherlock. He wasn't gonna let that bother him. Nope. Not at all.

"Why are you so convinced that everyone hates you?" John had asked. He felt he was finally making progress. Unfortunately Sebastian Moran had replied abruptly and sarcastically before zoning out. John snapped his fingers,"Hey!" Sebastian Moran blinked and then groaned. "You zoned out again," Joh informed him,"What were you thinking about?"

Sebastian shrugged,"Same as last time."

John doubted that,"Oh really. You were thinking about how superior you were after being asked why you thought everyone hated you?" John asked skeptically.

"Yes. Exactly." Sebastian said. "They all hate me BECAUSE I'm so superior."

John looked him in the eye,"Sebastian, this is important. It seems that you don't find yourself to be like able either."

Once again, John found himself thinking of Sherlock. Sherlock didn't believe himself to have any friends either, in his mind, John was the only one. Sherlock had had no idea of the people who cared about him; Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly- even Mycroft! 'He'll never know how much they cared,' John thought sadly. Then he scolded himself for thinking about Sherlock and not focusing on his client- who hadn't replied. "So you consider him a friend, a somewhat friend, but you think he hates you. How is this?" John asked.

"Well, I don't consider him a friend, but a long time ago I think he considered me one. He never really let go. That guy has attachment issues really- it's not just me he won't let go of. I think he could benefit from some therapy honestly." Sebastian said.

John smiled a bit and then asked,"When was the last time you two talked?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"A few months ago was the last time I saw him." Sebastian said. "It wasn't that pleasant."

"What exactly happened?" John asked hoping that maybe whatever the unpleasant event was, it had something to do with why Sebastian was taken for being, to put it simply, insane.

"Well..." Sebastian started looking uncomfortable.

"Well what?" John urged.

Sebastian started tapping his feet in a four beat rhythm again. John wondered if it was an anxiety thing, like when his hands would shake. "Lets just say an old childhood authority came to visit, and that I finally realized everyone hated me." In his head John was gloating, finally he has figured it out, but outside he remained stoic. He wouldn't have wanted his therapist jumping for joy when he had finally uttered those terrible words;'Sherlock Holmes, my best friend, is dead.' If they had the therapist would probably end up very injured... Maybe him and this guy weren't that different.

"You were told off?" John asked.

Sebastian elaborated,"I was never what I should have been, I was always a disappointment as a kid, so someone who knew, finally took the liberty, of telling me this," he sounded bitter. John, again, thought of Sherlock. "So what did your 'friend' do while all this went on?" John asked sounding slightly disgusted.

"He offered to 'help' me."

"Help you?"

"You know, to not be the 'crazy disappointment' I was."

"I'm guessing you declined this offer."

"Yah..."

"So is it possible that this event hurt you emotionally, and may account for irrational actions of yours?"

"Possible? That's the real reason you dimwit." Sebastian replied.

John sighed. "That's the end of today's session. You did well."

He told Molly he was done and had made progress, and Molly promised to make sure he was okay until the next session. John was happy. He would definitely propose to Mary that night. He was glad that Sebastain had calmed down, when Lestrade found him he was breaking down, starting fights, talking to himself, but he seemed to be okay. John thought he would be okay. John thought he would be able to help. John thought he was gonna do more sessions. John was wrong. John had no idea of the events that would happen that night, that would make him forget about the strange man he talked to in the hospital. So much happened after that night that he never gave Sebastian a second thought... Until he did.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

All throughout the dark hotel room, the tv's glowed. They all bore the same news in different varying forms: Sherlock Holmes was still alive. Jim Moriarty took a sip of his tea. Of course he had known Sherlock was alive, but he hadn't been quite sure when he would reveal it. He knew that when he did though he would believe himself to be perfectly safe from his network. Jim had been laying low over the past two years, still committing crimes, but spending most of his time doing research. One topic that interested him most was Torchwood.

There were so many people who knew about aliens, it was so silly how their existence was still denied by the majority of population. Sherlocks one huge mistake was being so narrow minded, never objecting against what science said was true. Maybe if he did he wouldn't have been fooled so easily to think Moriarty was dead. "You aren't the only one who can fake it Sherlock." He said out loud in the empty room. He wasn't gonna go attack Sherlock right away, he had to set up his plan first. He knew there were more players in the game than before, and another villain could very well be replacing him. He stood up. Better to do some investigating first.

He packed a small suitcase with his two best suits, a gun, and his labtop. He checked out of the hotel with a feeling of excitement. Finally, something interesting. It would hardly be a challenge anymore though. At the airport he used his fake passport with the name Andrew Scott written on it. He knew he couldn't use Richard Brooke anymore, it was way too obvious, but he liked this name, he didn't know why- it just sort if felt right. All the people on the airplane were morons, but he played the part of normal boy well.

Finally, he was back in London. He pondered where to explore first. Somewhere with memories. Suddenly he knew exactly where to start. His place of victory. St. Bart's hospital. He waited till the next night when he knew John and Molly were off duty, he didn't want to spoil the surprise. Sherlock's reveal would make it it less astonishing, he would have to wait till the right time. He started giggling inside like a teenager who had outsmarted his parents. He looked at the sign on one of the doors. It was labeled 'Mental Ward'. "That sounds promising," he thought. He walked in.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

'What was the deal with handcuffs anyways?' The Master wondered. 'Who invented them?' He had seen into all of time and space and even he didn't know. 'I bet they were created by a paradox. They shouldn't exist. As a time-lord my duty is to destroy him.' The Master thought but he was only kidding himself. He knew he was hardly a time lord anymore and even if he was he wouldn't have cared about duty. But still, he had a right to he annoyed.

That doctor with the horrible moustache had said he was doing well. Well then why did that annoying nurse Molly Hooper still handcuff him to a hospital bed in the mental ward? Humans were so stupid. They did write good television shows though. He had never really had an experience with television until then. He had figured that anything was better than sitting there bored listening to the sounds the infernal noise going on in his own mind, so he decided to watch TV. He was lucky the room had a TV, even though it was very small.

There was a marathon going on of this show called,"Supernatural," and the Master had to admit, it was good. That Dean character though, man he died and came back more times than the Doctors' friend Captain Jack Harkness did. After 8 hours straight of sitting uncomfortably on the bed watching that show, he decided to give in and try to sleep. It didn't work. Nobody, not even aliens, were meant to sleep which infernal handcuffs on. Again, why did it have to be handcuffs? Why not rope? Of maybe a staight jacket? He had worn one once and it wasn't that bad. He preferred it to the itchy hospital robe thing he has been forced to wear.

Suddenly he heard the door open. "What is it?" He muttered into his pillow. He was greeted by a male voice. "Hiii!" The voice said in an enthusiastic voice. The master sat up straight, his nearly white hair messy now. "What do you want?" He asked. The lights turned on. The master stared at the man in the grey suit standing in front of him. "Who are you?" He asked. The man smiled a grin that expressed multiple things at once. "A visitor," he said. "A very eager visitor."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

The Master stared, not following. The man in the grey suit walked forward and grabbed the forms sitting on the table. "Lets learn more about this player," he said skimming the forms.

"What are you doing?" The Master asked.

The man ignored him,"Hmm... Sebastian Moran, insane, dead wife, assaulted someone, ooh- and homeless," he read from the list.

He looked up,"Pleased to meet you Sebastian," he said.

The Master scoffed,"Who are you?"

The man chuckled,"I'm the game master, here to recruit more players." He replied. The Master was getting real tired of vague answers. "Can you leave?" He requested.

"Oh, but I just got here." He complained in a mocking voice, he faked a pout. The Master rolled his eyes.

"Do you work here?" he asked.

The man grinned,"I was a patient," he informed him.

The master squinted-a patient? "You aren't supposed to be here," he stated, not asking, he knew.

"Aww but you wouldn't tell on me would you?" Another fake pout. "That would spoil all the fun!"

The Master still wasn't getting what was going on. But he didn't feel uncomfortable anymore. He grinned- whatever this person may want, it could be less boring than life usually was. "It would be bad for you if I told wouldn't it? And it would he so easy for me too." The Master taunted.

The man smiled happy at The Master for participating in the taunt. "Oh you're right, I'll just have to shoot you then he mocked," bringing out his gun.

The Master was a little shocked at the sudden appearance of a gun but didn't let it show, both members of this party were acting- it was necessary to bluff; though why they were doing this he still didn't know. "Oh you really aren't allowed here," The master smiled,"You're a little rebel." The Man in the grey suit sat at the edge of the bed. "Rebel is good. You should be one, help me toy with the sane people until they aren't sane anymore." The Master smelled an offer. "Not our kind of insane though? The good kind?" He asked.

The Man smirked,"What makes you think our kind is the same?" The Master tilted his head, he did have a point, "You're right, I'm the good insane- you aren't insane at all." The man but his hand to his heart in mock offence. Then he regained his composure and said,"If you get to know me long enough it will be obvious."

He played with his gun and got off the bed,"Do you wanna play the game?"

"What game?" The master questioned.

"The one where we toy with the sane people, and stop being bored. I can already tell you're bored." The man informed him.

The master thought about it, he wouldn't usually travel with a human, he had refused traveling with the doctor!- but that was when he was winning. He had nothing now, not even an enemy or a lover or a hope that he could get rid of the infernal drums in his head. He had nothing to lose as he had already lost. The only upside to being already let down is no fear of disappointment.

"I'll play the game with you," he decided.

"That's great," the man said,"But it's not the time yet. I'll be back. Tell anyone you saw me and there will be a bullet in your brain," he declared. And without another word, he left the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Three days went by, and the man in the grey suit did not return. Throughout this time the Master sat there bored, out of his mind, and bored out of his mind. Things had been completely uneventful, not a single interesting thing happened and he didn't even meet with that guy again. He didn't wonder if his strange encounter three nights ago was a dream, he knew it wasn't- he hasn't had a dream in ages. The drums made sure of that. When Nurse Molly came to bring him food he complained her head off. There was nothing else he could really do anymore except complain. Threatening people didn't exactly work when you were in handcuffs.

"If you're bored maybe you should read the papers," Molly suggested.

"What could possibly be in the newspapers that interests me?" He snarled.

She laughed,"There's a lot of interesting things in the paper Sherlock."

"Huh?"

"Sebastian- I meant Sebastian."

Two hours later he gave in and tried to read the newspaper. It was just as bland as he had expected it to be, until he recognized a face in it.

In an article about a so called detective named Sherlock Holmes (he must have been friends with Nurse Molly, the master has thought) had been revealed to be alive after faking his death two years prior to the article. That wasn't what caught his interest. In the article it spoke of a criminal named Jim Moriarty, who had shot himself on the same day Sherlock faked jumping off a building. It showed an image of him and it was most definitely the man in the gray suit whom the master had spoken to.

'Huh, guess a lot of people faked their deaths that day,' he thought. Kind of ironic considering he himself had faked his death, maybe it was a trend. You could never know who was really alive these days, or all days if you had a tardis. He wondered why this criminal had been walking around in a place so easy to get caught in. He had read in the article that his therapist Dr. Watson, John was his first name apparently, had been close with Sherlock, and still was. Moriarty was taking an awful huge risk hanging around there, his identity voile easily be revealed. The Master had liked talking to him though, he was more interesting than most humans. He hoped he would come back, it would help with not being bored- it was times like these he missed the doctor. The Master's wishes were not in vain, for two days later, Moriarty returned.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Moriarty didn't feel like killing that man. It was something that didn't quite happen that often, where he really, just, didn't want to. So upon returning to the hospital he secretly hoped that Sebastian would be obedient and helpful so as that he would not have to shoot him, or have a sniper shoot him, or send him on a mission where he would most likely get shot. He opened the door quietly and stepped inside turning on the lights as he did so. Sebastian was sitting up on the bed as if he had been awake for some time before.

"You're back," he said. There wasn't any enthusiasm in his voice, but no bitterness either.

Moriarty grinned,"And you're still here." He looked around the room and spotted a newspaper. "Oh you've been researching," he smirked. "I presume you know who I am now," Moriarty taunted.

Sebastian hesitated,"You're James Moriarty," he finally stated.

"Oh please," Moriarty laughed in a playful but seemingly sinister way,"Call me Jim."

Sebastain looked tired, there were dark circles underneath his eyes,"What do you want?" He asked roughly.

"I wanted to know if you were still willing to go through with my offer... Or if you wanted me to-" Moriarty imitated shooting oneself in he head. It was funny considering what happened on two years ago on the roof of that very building with Sherlock. Although, or some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, the thought of a bullet piercing through that strangers blonde, almost white, hair and blowing his brains out made him cringe. He was usually pretty okay with that kind of stuff. In fact- it made him happy! But not today. He didn't let any of his discomfort show.

"Why do you want me to come with you?" The Stranger asked.

"I already told you- to play the game!" Moriarty exclaimed.

The Man's face didn't change,"It says in the paper you shot yourself in the head."

"Yes... I faked my death, not hard to do." Moriarty was pretty sure he was gonna ask how he did it, which would result in a complicated answer he didn't feel like getting to, he's teach this fellow about the technology that lay beyond the earth later, if he lived long enough. Luckily he didn't ask that. His reply in fact was rather surprising, and intriguing.

"I know. I've done it before."

"Oh have you? Than tell me dear, what was your name, before that version of you died."

"Harold Saxon."

"The old prime minister? Nice. It appears you aren't as ordinary as you seemed to be, I look forward to working with you- well technically you'll be working for me." Moriarty bantered as he brought out a key and unlocked the Man'a handcuffs.

"You're not gonna ask for any more information on the whole 'I was the prime minister thing'?" He questioned rubbing his wrists and standing up.

"Nope. Moriarty grinned tossing him an extra suit. But I am wondering, should I call you ?"

The Man shook his head,"No. I used to know people who called me The Master, but Sebastian will do."

He slipped on the suit.

Moriarty smiled, he hoped that he wouldn't be let down, insanity needed to be a dominant trait in his new companion. "Alright Sebastian, time to break out of a mental ward, then we can get to work."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

As glamorous as Moriarty had made it sound, breaking out of the mental ward had been pretty boring. Moriarty hadn't wanted to call attention to himself just yet, so he had hijacked the records to say that patient Sebastian Moran had been relocated. No-one would question it, there wasn't the time- no worry about a police investigation.

"Where exactly are we going?" Sebastian as Moriarty led him through the dark alley's of London. Sebastian seemed worried, as if there was someone he was avoiding, and he kept tapping a four beat rhythm on his legs. It was quite irritating.

"We're going to one of my many homes, to plan." Moriarty replied.

"And what exactly are we planning for?" Sebastian asked.

"You'll see."

Moriarty looked at Sebastian's ID he had stolen from the hospital. He knew physic paper when he saw it, and now he was wondering exactly how much this man knew.

"Who are you hiding from." Moriarty questioned after a few minutes of silence.

"What?"

"You're hiding from someone. Who? And don't lie to me, I'll know."

Sebastian sighed,"An old acquaintance, calls himself the Doctor. It's weird he hasn't found me by now, he can usually sense it. I wonder if he's died."

Moriarty chuckled,"The doctor, doctor who?"

"Just the doctor."

"And he can sense you, and I'm guessing this has something to do with the physic paper am I right?"

Sebastian stared.

"What you thought I wouldn't notice?" Moriarty continued,"I've had experience with psychic technology of all kinds."

"Oh yah? So have I." Sebastian remarked.

"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister," Moriarty taunted.

"Don't call me that."

"I can call you whatever I want and you won't argue. Oh look, we're here."

Moriarty pointed to a small brick building sitting on a hill where they had just arrived. Moriarty looked around inside, he hasn't visited this place in years, he had other accommodations he used, but he felt like this place for now. He walked around cleaning off the shelves. There were spy cameras and computers, guns and bombs, but also normal things like suits, two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. A little homey for the most dangerous man in Britain one might think. Moriarty pulled over a seat and turned on a laptop. He inserted a flash drive and a picture of Sherlock popped up. "This my dear Sebastian," Moriarty said popping a cigarette into his mouth,"Is our target."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:  
The master recognized the face that showed up on Moriarty's computer screen from the newspaper he read. Sherlock Holmes. It didn't interest him much. Moriarty glanced at him probably expecting some sort of response. None was given. Finally after a few minutes The Master said,"This suit is uncomfortable." Moriarty whipped his head around looking offended,"That's one of my best suits!" The master shrugged,"Id rather wear sweatpants."  
Moriarty glared,"You wore suits when you ran for prime minister." The master stretched,"Oh yes, I suppose I did." Moriarty laughed,"oh okay I see you're unimpressed." The master raised his eyebrows,"You didn't do anything to impress me. All you did was pull up a picture of that Sherlock Holmes man. A plan or something would have been nice..." Moriarty stood up,"Oh yes a plan. A motive... We'll get to that later. Right now I think some relaxing is overdue, wanna see my weapons stash?" Moriarty then produced a cabinet full of so many guns if the Doctor had walked in and seen them he probably would have regenerated from the shock. The master whistled,"that's a lot."  
Moriarty grinned. "These are my special ones. I only let my best snipers use them and only use them on people I find important enough." The master looked through them,"Important enough?" He mumbled,"Who do you consider important enough?" Moriarty had a evil flash in his eyes,"Well hmm, lets see... Former prime ministers are pretty important." The master whirled around and moriarty laughed. "But alas we're on the same side. I did actually have a plan to kill you when you were running though. It was perfectly set out until someone else 'killed' you first."  
He pointed to a rifle at the top of a cabinet. "I was gonna use that one right there." The master didn't realize that someone had been trying to kill him back when he was Harold Saxon. He knew that the reason Moriarty's plan had failed wasn't because The Master had already been killed though. Most like is was that Moriarty had been killed like most of the world, back in the year that never was. Most of the things the Master did were forgotten to erased, like recently when he became everyone, everyone! And nobody remembered. It was quite unfair. But at least someone remembered him...


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13:  
The master lay on top of the sheets of his bed and stared at the ceiling. Moriarty had gotten some urgent call and, well, basically needed some privacy. Before Moriarty ushered him to an empty room, The Master caught a glimpse of his phone and saw the words "Janine Hawkins."

Now that he was alone, the drums in his head were getting louder. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. He thought about the weapons Moriarty had.  
TAP. TAP. TAP. TAP. It would be so easy to take one.  
TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! And use it on Moriarty...  
The Master bolted upright and started breathing heavily.

"SHUT UP!" He screamed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Faster than the Master would have thought possible for a human, Moriarty appeared with a gun in his hand. The master wouldn't acknowledged him but was a little preoccupied with having a mental break down.

He sunk to the ground moaning and covering his ears with his hand as if that would stop the noise. Moriarty was saying something but he didn't know what. The words were getting drowned out by the infernal drumbeat.  
All he could catch of Moriarty's remark was the word,"Schizophrenic."

Afterwards, The Master remembered the meaning of that word from his time when he was a human professor, probably the only time in his life when he had the drums and was still sane. Time passed by. He wasn't sure how long. Eventually the noise quieted down and he could concentrate. He concentrated on Moriarty.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

Moriarty wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he heard his so called "Sebastain Moran" screaming, but it definitely wasn't this. He should've guessed really, the man _had_ been in a mental institution. The idea had crossed his mind but for some reason he couldn't beleive that his ,new companion could break down in fear from things that weren't there. He had thought it way more likely that the mysterious "Doctor" had somehow broken into his house. Now that he had seen it for himself there was no denying it, the person he had recruited had a weak point.

He bent down and tried to calm down Sebastain. He tried asking if he was schitxophrenic. He didn't answer but his shaking and heavy breathing spoke for him. Eventually his breathing slowed and he looked right up at Moriarty. Moriarty stared back and then finally asked,"Need a hand?" Sebastain seemed to tired to answer but hw did grunt, which Moriarty took as a yes. He grabbed his hand and lifted him to his feet. "Now let's get you some water shall we?" he said enthusiastically. All Sebastain could do was nod meekly.

When they got to the kitchen Sebastain started groaning and held his head again. "What's wrong? What happened?" Moriarty asked. Sebastain didn't answer, only leaned against the able looking as if he were about to fall over. "Sit," Moriarty commanded pulling out a chair and Sebastain obeyed. Moriarty sat in the chair next to him and observed. Sebastain's face was covered with his hands, only his blonde nearly white hair showing. His nails were cracked and dirty. When he put his hands down his face looked sweaty. Moriarty secretly hoped it was schitzophrenia that was causing these problems and not drugs which were so dull. He knew Sherlock suffered from drug problelms which was one of the things that made him so boring sometimes.

Finally, Sebastain spoke,"You said you had water?" His voice was hoarse, he really did need the water. Moriarty stood up,"Yah I'll get you some." He brought the water over along with some tes for himself. Sebastain's hands, Moriarty noticed, were shaking as he brought the glass to his lips. Suddenly, deductions weren't enough anymore, he needed an answer. "Do you hear voices?" he blurted out the question with a sort of accusing force. Sebastain looked surprised at the question. "Sort of," he stated putting down his cup. This answer wasn't good enough for Moriarty. 'Sort of?" he demanded. Sebastain shrugged. "It's hard to explain."


	15. Chapter 15

Hard to explain... It didn't seem so hard to explain to Moriarty. It was a simple yes or no question. Jim in fact did not hear voices, he was insane all on his own. "Well do you or not?" Moriarty demanded.

The Master looked up exasperated,"I thought we left the mental institution, why are you still asking me questions like a therapist?"

Moriarty didn't appreciate being snapped at by his own sniper but he decided to let it go for just this once. The rest of the night was spent in silence, until eventually both bodies could no longer retain consciousness, and the two crazy minds drifted off away from reality- if only for a few hours.

The Master woke up the next afternoon still sitting at the kitchen table. Moriarty was no-where to be seen, so he got up and walked around. He ended up devouring literally every edible object in the kitchen's cabinets. He wondered how long it would be till Jim realized that his new sniper, the late Harold Saxon and the new Sebastain Moran, wasn't exactly human. Jim Moriarty had already proven to know that aliens existed, or at least that physic paper did. He also wondered why the Doctor hadn't found him yet. He was in an isolated area with only one human, he was exposed enough for the Doctor to sense him. He couldn't stand not knowing and simply waiting, he tried to use one of Moriarty's laptops to try and find information about wether or not the Doctor was still alive, but they all had high security. Oh well, it's not like he was well acquainted with how to use human technology, he guessed he would just have to wait. He found another room with a target and throwing knives, that seemed stimulating enough. Eventually, the Master wasn't sure how much later, Moriaty finally came back.

"Hello Sebastian," Moriarty said walking in.

"Hello Jim," The Master replied throwing another knife at the target. It made it. He had a good aim. "Where have you been?"

"I was working," Moriarty stated grabbing a knife. "What? did you miss me?" He mocked. Did you miss me... he thought, that would be a great thing to tell Sherlock. He threw the knife at the target. It made it, he also had a good aim.

The Master rolled his eyes,"Speaking of work, when do I start?"

"Are you in a hurry?" Moriarty questioned nonchalantly.

"I don't like sitting around." The Master told him putting down he knife and turning to face him.

Moriarty grinned,"Well then, we better get to work."


End file.
